Silvercroft Fair
by P.L. Nunn
Summary: What happens after the events of Aftermath, while Kall-Su is trying to get a grip on life without wizardly powers.
1. Default Chapter

silvercroft1

Silvercroft Fair 

Minstrel's Magic

The old master bard had a voice like mellowed wine. Deep and rich and sliding over the senses like so much priceless amber fluid. He could lull a crowd with his voice, enrapture them as if a spell were cast. Every eye was focused upon him, though a great many of them were languid with daydreams or relaxation. He took away tension and pain with his voice. Banished anxiety. There was no spell cast, but there was magic involved. A few months ago, Lily might not have believed it, or accepted it, but now, as she sat amongst the crowd appreciating the master bard's performance, she felt the smooth, undulating currents of power that laced through the baritone of his voice. She knew that music could hold magic, just not the kind that shattered armies or brought down mountains. She's seen that type too and found she preferred the gentler sort that drifted on the wings of a song.

Crayl said she had the potential. She didn't know whether she believed him. Power of any kind was not a concept she was comfortable with in context with herself. Swaying a crowd with her voice. Yes. Swaying a man with the whisper of her lips, and the touch of her hands. Oh, yes. Very much so. But power of an unnatural sort? That scared her. But not as much as it might have, once upon a time. Not since she had come to love certain things infused with unnatural powers.

The applause of the crowd signaled the end of the last song. The master bard put aside his dulcimer, gratefully accepting a mug of cold ale from a bright eyed tavern wench. Crayl, who she was sitting with, rose and beckoned her to follow him as he weeded his way through the crowded taproom towards the older minstrel. Neither she, nor Crayl had their own instruments with them, this had been an expedition to enjoy the talents of the competition more than anything else. When Crayl had heard the mellow tones of the bard from the street outside the tavern, his eyes had lit with excitement and he'd practically pulled Lily into the tavern.

"Well, was that a croak I heard in your voice? Is age making you creak, old man?" Crayl said, surprising Lily to no ends at the rudeness. Crayl was usually the epitome of genial good manners. The old minstrel looked up. His face split with a grin, causing creases and lines to spring up about his eyes and mouth. He had longish hair, sprinkled liberally with gray and balding on top, and skin browned and seasoned into a leather like hardness from many years walking the lands in the sun.

"You'll never hear a harsh note in my tones, boy. But the envious always hope for the worst, do they not?"

Crayl laughed. "As if I could ever be as good as you. Why bother wishing?" He held out his hand and the other man clasped it.

"Its been too long, Crayl. Are you headed for the fair?"

"Aye. That I am."

"With that lot of surly youngsters that you collected?"

"Them and more." Crayl turned his smile on Lily, urging her closer. "Lily, this is my master. Selephio, this is Lily, who is vastly talented, even more so than she fully realizes."

The older man looked her over, not quite the way a man sized up an attractive young woman, but with a deeper, more peculiar stare. As if he were looking at her insides instead of her out. She blushed, as she did not blush when men admired her more obvious traits.

"Oh, you are by far the most lovely of Crayl's misbegotten band of musicians, young Lily. And I think possessed of more gifts."

"Oh, no. Not really." She stammered in modesty.

Selephio smiled at her, shaking his head. "Oh yes. I can see these things. I saw it in the lad here, over a decade ago. Its a talent I have."

She didn't know what to say about that.

"Are you traveling alone?" Crayl asked, his brows knit in concern. There were more and more tails of pirates attacking the coast cities, spurred on by the upheaval of the ice storm that had devastated a good deal of the western coast some two months prior. They ventured further and further inland, pillaging towns, murdering, raping, taking women and children to sell as slaves. They had passed a small hamlet three days ago that had been shattered by such an attack. The survivors had numbly tried to pick up the pieces, and not even the songs of talented minstrels could lift the terror from their eyes. There had been a dozen or more fresh dug graves and a dozen more survivors who had lost children or wives or sisters to the seabound devils.

"I am. What is this look I see in your eyes? Do you think I'm so ancient and infirm, that I'll fall prey to the evils of the road?"

"It had crossed my mind." The Fair was in Silvercroft Glen. It was the largest summer fair on the continent. A magnet for artisans of all flavor. Harpers were drawn to it like flies to a corpse -- as Dell liked to say with a wry glint in his eyes.

"Would you like a little company on the road?" It was a week's journey away.

"What? With the lot of your shiftless vagabonds?"

Crayl smiled wanly. "We've gained a little respectability, Master Selephio. Why, we entertain great lords on a constant basis."

Selephio snorted incredulously. Lily's lips curved up in an insidious little smile. Crayl's boast was quite accurate. They did entertain great lords -- or lord -- when the lord in question chose to loiter about when they were performing. More often than not, the clamor of the places they found the greatest profit in, taverns, ale houses and the like, drove him away fairly quickly. He was not a social creature. He despised crowds. He was solitary by nature, her lord, where Lily was gregarious, which surprisingly enough inspired no conflict. It was a harmonious blending, those traits. There were a great many things they did harmoniously.

"I suppose for the honor of your company," Selephio was saying. "You expect me to give the girl a few pointers."

"Oh, master Selephio, I would never think to impose on your vast and benevolent nature. But, if you were so inclined, I believe she would benefit greatly."

"She is better to look at than you were."

"Oh, wonderful. The others will be thrilled."

The old harper snorted. "I'm sure they will, lad. I'm sure they will."

The village was called Oborhurst or some such thing. The names of all the feckless little glens and hamlets, road side shanties and sprawling towns he had passed through were meaningless trivia that slipped through Kall-Su's mind as quickly as they entered. He did not despise the peasant folk who lived in them, or look down his nose at them -- well, not all of them -- they were useful, they performed vital tasks for their liege lords that kept the economy of all the lands robust, but he could summon little interest in them. There were to many other things that pulled at his attention. Internal things that he worried at endlessly, despite the fact that he had been told in no uncertain terms to leave be. Scabs and scars that were as insubstantial as air, but more worrisome than the crusted stump of a severed limb would have been.

The wounds left in the gaping holes where his magic had been. Some things had come back. His arcane perceptions had been almost unscathed. He could feel the tremors of a great spell, or a powerful icon, or the passing of a wild elemental as well as he had ever been able to. Better even, with the lack of the other things making arcane awareness more sensitive. He could influence the minds of lesser animals, horses, dogs and the like. A minor skill at best, one even most hedge witches could claim. With effort he could perform small -- very small -- ice spells. But they left him reeling and sweating afterwards. A few other meaningless trifles. The rest was locked away behind burned power channels that might or might not ever heal properly on their own.

Yoko had been deceivingly optimistic. She had done what she could, which was damned little. Schneider, who could bring the dead back to life was completely at a loss when it came to the delicate variances of the mental planes that channeled power and magic. His black scowls had gone a good ways to negate Yoko's carefully thought out words of encouragement.

What it came down to was that he was crippled. Powerless compared to what he had been and likely to remain that way. One had to hate the Prophet, even though it was useless to waste time and energy repudiating the dead.

"Oh, sweet gods, look at this."

He half glanced to the side as the young harper who seemed determined to attach himself to his every footstep, held up a carved fertility charm fashioned in the shape of four intertwined male and female forms in the throes of a very exaggerated sexual act. Breasts and penises were of mythical proportion in relation to the bodies. Kall-Su lifted a brow at Thizura, who was grinning idiotically, waving the thing about as if he were the high priest on some sex oriented cult.

"Do you think it would make me irresistible if I bought it?"

"I believe it is designed to attract the opposite sex." Kall said wanly, turning his back on the harper's wicked grin. The young man was an incurable flirt. He slept regularly with Allun, one of his fellow harpers, as well as picking up young men in a fair number of the villages they stayed for more than a day in. He was disconcertingly single minded in his admiration of Kall-Su. Not overt enough to get in trouble over it -- he was wary enough of Kall's reputation not to pester him -- but he tended to stare a lot and sigh, and make wistfully suggestive comments to everyone but Kall, but not generally out of Kall's hearing.

Lily thought it was vastly amusing. Kall fluctuated between annoyance and acute embarrassment. But one could hardly order the boy away. One was not presently in the role as ruling lord of the north. One was presently enjoying a stretch of no responsibility at all. It was not a bad thing, to have no world shattering events taking place around him. To have no barbarians screaming at his gates, no city to maintain, no facade to employ, no all powerful enemies to make his life miserable.

That was one thing he liked about his present situation. He loved being with Lily. A happy, carefree Lily who had no qualms about letting anyone know they shared a bed. Who proclaimed nightly her love -- with words and actions. Who he did not think he could quite live without.

What he did not care for were the bug infested beds -- when there were beds -- that they were forced to sleep in. The foul smell of sweat and worse things in the sheets and the old straw of the mattresses. The disparaging, sometimes mockingly cruel treatment the harpers sometimes received by town bullyboys or drunken patrons of the taverns they performed. He did not like the lust in the eyes of men when they watched Lily sing, or perform the blatantly sexual dances designed to bring a crowd to the frothing point and thus separate it from its coin.

He wore his sword -- not the Ice Falchion, in no way would he have that blade with him when he had not the resources to contain it -- when he knew she would dance. He sat as far from the press of the crowd as he could get, watching over her, a silent protector. Dell sneered at him, saying airily that harpers knew the way to control crowds. He hardly ever responded to the tall harper's sarcasm, save with a ice stare. He often thought it was good he did not have his magics, for Dell would have probably ceased to exist some time back. But, Dell was right, no one ever attacked her, beyond a grope and a leering suggestion.

He browsed around the market square a while longer. Not much of a market, just a small section of street where a few venders had set up tents to hawk their wares. Nothing of real interest, merely a way to pass time. It was getting on towards night. The mosquitoes were out in force. He kept them away with a slight stab of coercion. Their tiny, single minded intellects were easy to control, but it was a subtle draw on his limited energies that disheartened him. He despised the feeling of stretching his limits with such inconsequential things. So he headed back to the inn they were staying at. Veering to the stables instead of going inside. Seeing that he was intent on seeing to his horse, Thizura gave up on him and retreated inside where the sounds of music could be heard.

The stable smelled of hay and horse, good clean smells that appealed to him. His horse was by far the finest animal in the stable. Probably the finest ever to cross its threshold. A young bay stallion from his own line. Light enough to be dexterous and quick, strong enough to carry a man in armor for long distances without tiring. Sturdy enough to survive the harsh northern winters.

The stallion stuck his nose over the sagging stall door at the sound and smell of his master. The soft muzzle inspected Kall's tunic for hidden apples.

"I'm sorry, Brawaith, I didn't think to bring you a treat." Kall apologized solemnly, scratching under the heavy forelock. Brawaith was not amused, ears momentarily twitching back, until Kall found the right spot to itch, and the sleight was forgotten. He spent time currying the animal, until the stallion's coat was glossy. He would just pick up mud from the road tomorrow, but Kall had little enough to take pride in now that he would let his mount go unkempt.

He gave Brawaith a measure of grain to compensate for the apple, and left the stallion happily munching when he went inside. A few of the minstrels were playing. Allun and Dell. Thizura sat drinking, talking to a young man, probably a traveler by the look of his clothing. Of Crayl and Lily there was no sign. They had been out plying the other local drinking establishments. The fact that he accepted such a thing without blinking an eye, frankly amazed him. He would not ever have imagined himself so blithely unconcerned about a woman he loved traipsing around taverns. But, Lily had proved she was capable of taking care for herself. And he trusted Crayl. Of all of the harpers, he liked Crayl the most. There was a calm, reasoning intelligence about the man that was soothing. He never got agitated or excited. Never got angry. When he sang, the crowd was trapped by his voice. When he and Lily sang together -- sometimes even Kall-Su found himself drifting along with the melody, mindless of everything else.

Crayl talked about a magic that resided in music. Not to Kall, but to Lily he talked a great deal of it and she spoke of it at night to Kall. He didn't believe it. He had never seen a wizard who used music as his weapon and he had researched magics extensively. Perhaps, Lily had suggested, they keep it among themselves, only handing it down to other harpers.

He still didn't put much credence in it, other than the allure of a vastly talented minstrel on a listener, but he didn't say it to Lily, because she was beginning to believe. He went up to the room on the top floor that he and Lily shared. He bought the best accommodations available, and insisted whenever possible on fresh straw in the mattress and clean sheets. The Harpers, more often than not, declined his generosity and slept in the common room, or the stables, or four to a bed in one of the cheaper rooms. It was their life and they enjoyed it. Kall had no intention of enduring any indignities he did not have to. Lily never complained.

He took off his boots, cleaned the mud from them, and neatly laid his overtunic over a chair back. He sat in loose linen shirt and trousers with his back against the wall on the relatively clean bed and probed the extent of his injuries. He shut his eyes, using the arcane senses he did still have to investigate the progress of healing. He checked every night, vainly hoping to find some miraculous change in the state of his ethereal self. He generally found very little. He tested his limits gingerly, but not in the mood for a raging headache tonight, he ceased in short order. Yoko had told him not to stretch the healing channels. That in doing so he might tear them and make more of a mess than Angelo had in the initial wounding. Like an itch that had to be scratched, he could not quite leave it alone.

He worried at it a little longer, something to while away the time until Lily returned. She kept late hours, being what she was.

He drifted off eventually, came awake a little disoriented when she slipped into the bed next to him, curling herself around him like a contented cat. He blinked at her sleepily. She kissed him, a languid, thorough kiss that left him quite dazzled and quite roused out of drowsiness. She tasted of sweet wine and excitement. There was about her the fervor of the dance. The sensual power that she always exuded after she had driven a roomful of men to distraction by the power of her voice and her body and the aura of sensuality that she exuded so strongly. Heady with that power she was aggressive and more often than not he was generally left breathless and amazed when they had done.

"Did you dance tonight?" he asked.

"No." She responded, nuzzling his neck, her warm lips and tongue against his pulse. The beat picked up dramatically. She pulled back a little, looking up at him, her dark eyes sparkling.

"I felt it tonight, Kall. Crayl was right. There is something. There is a -- power -- to be found in music."

"How so?"

"We met Crayl's master. He has it. Oh, gods, you can feel it in the air when he sings. Its so powerful. He says only the barest few have it. And most hardly realize they do. I never really believed -- until he showed me how to feel it."

Her hands twined around his neck, fingers in his hair. Her body was taught with thrill. "I felt it in myself and --- ooohh, it was so good."

"Did you?" he was a little wary now at the talk of power and the fervor in her voice.

"Just a little, but Selephio says I've got potential."

"Potential for what? If no one's ever heard of this -- music magic -- then what good is it? What has it ever accomplished?"

She beetled her brows. "Well -- well, I'm not quite certain. We didn't get around to talking about that. But, he'll be traveling with us to the fair an you can ask him then."

"If you don't know what this thing does, why are you so eager to have it?" It seemed a reasonable question.

"Would it upset you?"

"No. I don't -- know." He found himself actually wondering if it would. If he were crippled to power and she suddenly found herself the recipient of it, could he tolerate it? He stared at her stricken at the uncertainty he found in himself.

She sighed and pressed her lips lightly against his. "I think I understand, my love. I forget sometimes what you've lost."

He never did. He shut his eyes to avoid her look of pity. She stroked his hair, whispering. "We'll see what comes. The sun rises and new possibilities come with it, no?"

He was not that optimistic. He did not reply. She let her lips and her fingers coax him out of his mood. Her talents were boundless. Even with all his powers intact he could not have resisted her for long.

[Next][1]

   [1]: silvercroft2.htm



	2. Chapter Two

silvercroft2

Part Two 

The road along the coast leading southward was a broad track that sometimes ran so close to the sea that you could hear the rush of the waves and smell the salt in the air. Sometimes it meandered deeper inland, closer to the foothills of the mountain chain that ran the length -- south to north -- of the continent. The weather was undeniably beautiful. Warm days and cooler nights, the breeze from the western ocean cooling what otherwise might have been oppressive summer heat.

Kall-Su preferred the cold. He liked the pristine clarity of winter far better than the myriad tones of summer. The ocean made him wary. Its magnitude had always daunted him a little. He hated the ponderous sway of its motion. Once, during their campaigns, years and years ago, Schneider had set his sights upon one of the island kingdoms. It was the producer of a particular spice that he had discovered and found he couldn't live without. He wanted it under his control. A whim. Nothing more. But he had commandeered a fleet of ships to carry out his plans and loaded his shitanno, then Kall-Su and Arshes Nei, both considerably younger than they were now, aboard and set out to sea. It took Kall precisely a dozen breaths to loose his land bound stability. A dozen more and no spell of his could calm the rolling of his stomach. Arshes had found it amusing until it hit her an hour out to sea. As the old adage went, wizards and the great blue sea were not a steady mixture. A day out and Arshes was throwing up her guts over the rail. Even Schneider was beginning to feel a little green. Kall had just wanted to die. And the deeper the ocean got, the worse it became, as if the tenuous connection to the earth made magic a weak and quarrelsome thing. He had been worse off than he was now, with all his channels burned closed. Then, with the sea surrounding him, it was as if there was no magic to compel.

By the time it had begun to seep away at Schneider's power, both his disciples were worse than invalids and having no wish to end up the same, he had reluctantly had to give up on any notions of conquering his spice island. Kall never even remembered getting back to dry land. Schneider had stomped around in a rage for days and Arshes had not let him forget the incident for ages, conveniently forgetting her own indisposition.

He had never set foot on a ship since then. He had a healthy distrust of the sea in general. It had never been his ally anyway. Saltwater didn't freeze.

Lily loved the ocean. When they passed through a seaport town, or a fishing village she roamed the docks, or went out onto the shores looking for treasures washed up on shore. She had a pouch of delicate little shells she'd collected. She said she would make a necklace from them.

A day out from Oborhurst, which was not a substantial distance considering that they traveled at the pace of a walking man, his horse being the only one among them, the road ran along a gentle bluff overlooking the sea. The old man that had joined them claimed to know a hundred different songs of the ocean, none of which Kall particularly wished to have to hear. There was such a thing, he was beginning to think, as too much music. A little silence was a desirable thing, but not to harpers. They could not survive without creating noise.

The old man was an odd sort. He was cranky and bossy, deliberately rude to the younger members of Crayl's troupe, but they took it with good cheer, even Dell who usually was sarcastic and sharp. He had Kall over when he'd joined them that morning, discovered he was not musically inclined and dismissed him as inconsequential. Not even of enough note to harp at, as he did the others, even Lily on occasion, though he was more inclined to flirt with her. Other than demanding to know why a perfectly good horse was not being utilized to carry their packs, he hadn't spoken to Kall at all. Kall had very shortly responded to that one communication with a curt; Brawaith is not a pack mule, nor shall he become one. And that had been that.

Lily had walked beside the old man, along with Crayl for a good part of the day, the three of them discussing topics of minstrelsy which held no interest for Kall-Su. Dell dispelled the peace of the afternoon by strumming his lute as he walked, while Allun and he practiced a harmony they had been creating.

Thizura dogged Kall's steps, keeping the Ice Lord between him and the spirited stallion. The horse had nipped him once, drawing blood when he'd ventured to close and he had developed a certain fear of him, that only egged on Brawaith's malicious sense of humor.

"He's Crayl's old master you know?" Thizura was saying.

Kall didn't comment, knowing already.

"His name is known far and wide. He's performed for practically every royal court in the lands. A lot of the songs you hear today, he wrote when he was a young minstrel."

Kall had never heard the name of Selephio, but then he had never paid much heed to the arts. Schneider had always been the one to indulge in entertainment's.

"Lily says he's more than a minstrel. That he magic. Is this true?"

Thizura's brows shot up. "I don't know if magic is the word I'd use. You'd really have to ask him to explain it. Its not my place to disclose trade secrets." Then the little harper smiled slyly and added. "Well, if you asked really nicely maybe I could."

Kall gave him a cold stare. Thizura shrugged. "You need to develop a sense of humor, you truly do."

Kall sniffed. Brawaith butted his shoulder, nickering. Kall glanced at the horse, at the twitching ears, and sensed the animal's awareness of other horses.

He lifted a hand to shade his eyes, peering towards the rise ahead of them. The bluffs rose gradually, the road was liberally sprinkled with wind blown sand and surrounded on either side by the tall, tough grasses so common to the sea shore. A band of riders topped the rise. Six or more men, their figures dark with the sun backing them.

The harpers seemed to have little concern, but Kall-Su having heard the tales of pirates and bandits plaguing the coast tensed, casually reaching up and shifting the sword fastened to his saddle, to a more convenient position.

The riders approached at a canter. As they grew closer it became apparent they wore uniforms of a military nature. Green and black issue with a standard sewn into the breast that Kall was not familiar with.

"Halt there." One of them commanded, as the lot of them blocked the road with horse bodies. A few of them trampled the tall grasses, circling about behind the troupe. "Where are you headed?"

"To Silvercroft for the fair." Crayl spoke up, smiling genially. "We're minstrels." He indicated the instrument on his back. The others stared at the soldiers curiously.

"There're bandits plying this road. Waylaying travelers. As well as pirates come to shore to pick off merchants and the like."

"Well we're not rich, nor merchants, so we've little to fear."

The officer eyed Lily. "They take more than gold and goods."

"It considered bad luck to slit a bards throat." The old man, Selephio said.

"If you're bards and not bandits in disguise."

Thizura snorted in laughter at that. Dell strummed a few bars of a tune on his harp. "We're rather well washed to be bandits, don't you think?" the tall, red haired harper observed.

"That's a fine horse for a lot of wastrel's to have." One of the riders came around to get a better look at Brawiath. "A damned fine animal. And since when to minstrel's go armed?"

Kall-Su stared up at the soldier expressionlessly.

"He's not a minstrel." Dell said snidely. "He's just tagging along. Please don't hold him against us."

The old soldier, squinted down at Kall, then past him at Brawaith. "Where'd you get such a fine animal? That steed's worth a years pay or I'm deaf and blind. Take a look commander."

As one of the other riders rode closer, the old soldier snapped at Kall. "Well, answer me, boy."

"Ask nicer." Kall-Su suggested in a tone that brought to mind silk covered in a layer of ice. The man's commander was staring at Brawaith, then his eyes shifted down to Kall-Su and widened.

"Goddess of mercy." The man exclaimed. Kall glanced up at him, and felt a pang of vague recognition. He had known this man. Or fought with him, or against him. One of Schneider's underlings, he thought. One of the Samurai Resistance that had formed to stop him, when he had been rampaging under Ansasla's control. He recalled a name, Bokarah or something.

"Is it -- you?" The man's eyes were practically bugging. He swung down off his horse, then slapped his sergeant's knee harshly when the man began to chastise Kall for not responding right away. He wasn't certain he wanted anyone to know who he was. His reputation had been rather tarnished of late and what with the ice storm of his summoning that had destroyed a fair bit of the western coastline, the Ice Lord Kall-Su was not a popular name.

"If I said I wasn't, would you believe me?"

Bokarah lifted both brows dubiously. Kall might not be as flamboyant as his mentor, but people never forgot his face. Which tended to be annoying when one wished for anonymity.

"My lord. What are you doing out here? With these --- musicians? Without escort -- without --"

Kall held up a hand. The bards and the soldiers were staring with open curiosity. The bards were well aware of course, save for the old man, but he'd rather not have this group of soldiers carrying word that he was wondering about the coast to every town the passed.

"Please. Bokarah?"

The man nodded. He'd gotten the name right at least. He thrust Brawaith's reins at Thizura, who paled visibly left in charge of the stallion, and indicated Bokarah should walk ahead with him. When they were out of easy earshot, Kall said.

"I will be in your debt if you speak not my name to your men. I'm rather trying to avoid notice."

Bokarah looked back to the minstrels, the question plain on his face.

"Don't ask. Please. Its a terribly long story." Kall answered before he could ask.

The man inclined his head. "Of course, I will do as you ask. But -- are you really headed to the fair at Silvercroft?"

Kall sighed. "Truly. What standard is this you wear? I'm not familiar with it?"

Bokarah looked down at his uniform and grinned. "Allied Kingdom forces, under control of the Regent."

"Larz?"

"Yes. There's been enough unrest since the whole damn church of the One God lost its mouthpiece that the regent decided he needed a force that was not hampered by borders and jurisdiction to keep the peace. He formed us."

"What are you doing here? The west isn't part of the southern alliance."

"No, but there have been so many pirate attacks this season that they've asked for help. Its been a damned bad year."

"Yes." Kall agreed. It had been a terrible year.

"I'd warn you to be careful of bandits, but I don't suppose you have much to fear from them."

If only that were so. But Kall neglected to mention it.

Bokarah gestured up the road the way they were headed. "There was a landing about seven leagues from here where they wrecked holy hell on a fishing village two days past. Damned dusky devils. Caught one of them that was injured. He didn't speak of word we could understand. Eyes black and pitch and skin like tanned leather. He drove a knife into his own heart before we could question him. Can't last for long though, soon as the fall storms start to hit, they won't have as easy access to the coast. The raids will slack off."

They walked back towards the waiting group. Bokarah mounted, throwing Kall-Su a snappy salute. "Fair weather to you and safe travel."

Kall nodded. The harpers returned the pleasantry before Bokarah signaled his men and they cantered off down the road. The lot of them looked at Kall as if they expected him to report what had been said. They were ever meddlesome in other's business, but one supposed it was the trade.

"Well, what did he have to say?" Dell inquired in exasperation after Kall had retrieved Brawaith's reins and continued on without bothering to respond to the curious stares.

"He advised caution against pirates."

"Well,that we knew." Dell responded testily.

"Hummm." Kall remarked and refused to say more.

Lily drifted up to walk beside him, twining her arm in his.

"You have the most austere ways of annoying him."

He shrugged.

"Their commander knew you, didn't he?"

"We had occasion to meet, yes." He agreed. If she asked, he would tell her, but he did not like to speak of the wars with her. There were things he had done that made him dead inside when he thought of them now, and he did not wish to mar the purity he felt with her by sharing them.

She slanted a glance up at him, her dark eyes studying his face. She had the ability to see through the cool facade he usually affected, which made it hard to hide things from her. Her lips turned up in a gentle smile and she said.

"Crayl says we won't reach the next village till tomorrow, so we'll have to camp out. There's a place he and Selephio know right on the beach that they've used before."

Wonderful. Close enough to the ocean to feel her spray and feel the thunderous crash of her waves against the beach. Something to look forward to.

It was not long after dusk had begun to fall that they came upon a traveler's shelter beside the track. There was a lean-to at the edge of the bluffs overlooking the ocean, and down a gentle sand slope from that, a firepit with a few charred embers resting at the bottom and a stack of dry driftwood under the lean-to, waiting for the next traveler to use it. It was common curtsy to restock what one used for the next person along.

The minstrels were ecstatic over the view. Allun, Thizura and Dell, tromped out onto the night darkened beach. There was much laughter and clowning, with Thizura ending up thrown in the surf and Dell outrunning him down the beach when he went for revenge.

Crayl built the fire while Lily rummaged about their packs for supper. The old man situated himself on the sand beside the pit, overlooking the younger bards. Kall saw to Brawaith. Brushed him, gave him his portion of oats and let him loose to gnaw at the tough grasses.

As always, after their bellies were full, and they sat around a pleasant fire, the minstrel's sought to outdo each other. They played song games, some of which were entertaining, some of which were purely annoying. The old man brought out a bottle of some bitter brew and passed it around the fire. Kall declined, the rest, including Lily, took swigs of the stuff and soon the lot of them were laughing and hitting sour notes on their instruments.

Gods help them if pirates were in the area. They could be heard for leagues and not a one of them would have seen a pirate till their throats were laid open.

Eventually, after Thizura had convinced Allun to go off with him into the darkness, Lily and Crayl crowded about the old man on the other side of the fire, making occasional thrums of one lute or another, or testing a line of song. Dell, who was not included in the little gathering, shifted to sit a body length or so from Kall-Su, stretching his long legs out before the fire pit and leaning back against a large chunk of driftwood.

"If he's a teacher," Kall asked softly, twirling a sharpened stick between his fingers. "Why are you not with them partaking of his wisdom?"

"What he teaches, I can't learn. No more than you could teach that damned fancy horse of yours to fly."

"What does he teach, if not minstrelsy?"

Dell stared at him through the darkness, his green eyes glittering. "Ah, wouldn't you like to know, wizard? Are there some things even you are ignorant of, my lord?"

Kall-Su ground his teeth, but would not admit to curiosity. Not to Dell at any rate.

Dell said no more. Kall sat there listening to the haphazard sounds of music, drowsing. Lily began singing softly to the whispered strumming of the old man's lute. Crayl's voice backed her up here and there, a ghostly counterpart to her lilting tones. It was an old song. A common one. He'd heard her sing it before. As ever her voice was soothing, calming. It drew out anxiety and fears, vanishing them. She had been his salvation once, when he'd verged on insanity and hopelessness. The sound of her voice had dragged him up from nightmares that wanted to devour him.

A vision of soft, silken arms and the cool brush of lips across skin, bringing with them a wave of soothing balm.

He blinked, swimming out of the vision and the sun shed its light across the waves, bringing morning with it. The fire was burnt out, and the huddled forms of the minstrel's were scattered about it. Lily lay snuggled in the crock of his arm. He didn't recall her joining him. His head felt a little muddled, as if he'd partaken of the old man's swill. But instead of pounding temples, he felt rather -- at peace. Like the remnants of the vision he had gone to sleep with, still clung to his mind. Like some sort of spell. But he had certainly sensed no magics in the air.

A little uneasily, he looked down at Lily's dark head. As if she sensed his scrutiny, she stirred, blinking sleepily, then smiling up at him.

"Good morning." A bare whisper.

He tried to think how to tactfully ask and could not quite compose a roundabout question. "Did you do something last night?"

Her smile widened a bit, and light came into her eyes. "Why? Did you feel something?"

"I don't know. Maybe. What did the old man tell you?"

"We just talked. About a lot of things. He told me to play and put my heart into it, to wish for the things I wanted my audience to feel from my music, so I merely wished for calm and peace and sweet dreams while I sang."

Sweet dreams? Those he'd had. Almost immediately after he'd been drawn into sleep. One could only hope it was coincidence. If there was some truth to what Crayl and Selephio were saying, he would hate to think he might be so easily effected by it. It was a frightening thought, actually.

[ NEXT][1]

   [1]: silvercroft3.htm



	3. Chapter Three

silvercroft3

Part Three 

The town of Silvercroft Glen was prosperous, relying on both shipping, it being a coastal town, and the inland commerce from across the mountains, it also being along a major trading route leading from the east. Being at such a nexus, it was in the perfect position for the annual summer fair that drew folk from far and wide. While the town itself was large, almost the size of a respectable city, a fair deal of the people flocking to the fair had set up tents in the surrounding land. The beach was full of cookfires and shelters. The gentle hills rolling down to it, also sprouting colorful canvas homesteads. The harbor was full of ships of all sizes, and the city bristling with people of every persuasion.

The sounds and smells and sights were overwhelming. One could not walk a step without being jostled, or seeing an array of colors that bordered on spectacle, or smelling the fabulous aroma of exotic cooking. The entertainment's were varied, from common bards to sinuous snake dancers, to corner plays, to juggles and acrobats. Criers proclaimed more elaborate performances behind the flaps of large tents, street corner hedge witches sold charms and gaudily dressed magicians amazed the crowds with plainly false displays of the arcane. Prostitutes of both genders weeded among the crowds, importuning all manner of gratification.

The bards were in heaven of a sort. The closer they got to Silvercroft Glen, the less they talked about anything else but the fair. One began to tire of hearing of it even before its boundaries were actually reached. Once there, they could hardly contain themselves, the lot of them behaving like unruly rustic children out for a day in the city. The younger ones wanted to hie off immediately, seduced by the atmosphere, but wiser heads prevailed and Crayl managed to convince them to at least stay together until they found lodging and would know how to find each other again. Crayl's inn of choice had no room as well as the two after it. The town was filled to overflowing with visitors and when they finally did find rooms, it was at an exorbitant rate for less than exemplary accommodations. Crayl lingered to haggle with the landlord. Kall merely handed over coin and went to see about Brawaith's stabling.

By the time he returned, the other's had melted into the confusion of the fair and only Lily waited, hiding her own impatience to be off with a smile and a polite inquiry of whether he might like to take a look around the town. A refusal would have devastated her, so stowing his gear in the upstairs room, he accompanied her out into the festive streets.

Kall-Su rather hated crowds and this one was bustling and totally unaware of mannerly personal distances. People careened off of one another, sidled past, brushed against their neighbors, laid hands on complete strangers in passing sometimes merely a friendly clap on the shoulder, sometimes of a more intimate nature. Children and dogs wove through the adult bodies, laughing, chasing each other, causing general mayhem in their play.

Lily laughed as a child, chasing another child, chasing a mongrel dog pushed their way between her and Kall. He glared indignantly, until she grasped his arm and pressed close.

"Its the atmosphere. Everyone's spirit is so gay. Can't you feel it?"

What he felt was trapped and put upon. "Its pandemonium."

"Ah, but pandemonium is not always such a bad thing, my very solemn love. Not if its in the spirit of good will. Haven't you ever gone out into the streets at festival or celebration and just enjoyed yourself?"

"No."

"Oh, that makes me sad." She ran her fingers down his arm to squeeze his hand. "In all your years, you've never merely let go and allowed yourself the freedom to enjoy the moment? Even with such a teacher as Dark Schneider?"

"We are not alike, he and I."

"Oh, that I am well aware of."

"It is not a shortcoming -- to be wary of frivolities." He said defensively.

"Of course not. Who said such a thing?" She looked up at him teasingly. Her light teasing was a thing he was still often caught off guard by. "Oh, look. Thetatrian dancers."

She dragged him towards a cleared street corner where a pair of acrobats performed a rhythmic and sensual dance to the beat of a drum played by a third performer. It was quite the most dexterous display Kall-Su had ever seen. Afterwards she found a trio of female singers that they paused to listen to. Then a performance by a sleight of hand artist who utilized flames and exploding powder in his displays. They bought cider and smoked sausages and as the light faded watched the strings of ornamental lanterns hanging from almost every doorstep being lit.

Passing the doorstep of a tavern they heard a familiar voice and drifted inside. It was Crayl and his old master singing harmony to the obvious fascination of the crowded room.

"Shall we sit down for a while?" Lily asked. He agreed and they found a small, rickety table in the center of the room and perched on stools. A harried girl approached and brought two mugs of brown, foaming ale. It was amazing how attentive the room was to the two singers. Most taverns were a riotous uproar by this time of evening. When they ended the haunting ballad, they struck up a lively tune and soon the room was vibrating with stamping feet and palms slapping tables. The ale ran freely and in mass.

_Gods, _he thought, seeing the effect a mere change of tempo had upon the room. _There is something to their music._ He'd been picking up on bits and pieces of it since that first night on the beach. It was subtle. Sometimes nothing more than a feeling of peacefulness or lightened mood. And it did not always happen, but when they put their minds -- or as Lily put it -- their hearts to it, they could sway a man's mood. It was only Crayl and Selephio and Lily out of their bunch that he sensed it from. The others had pleasing voices and deft fingers, but they were mere background noise compared to what their compatriots invoked.

He had almost dismissed it, when it was Lily singing, because she moved him so already, but seeing a room full of boisterous drinkers so effected pricked his curiosity.

Afterwards when Crayl and the old man had finished, Lily beckoned them over. They brought half finished mugs of ale with them, sitting their instruments atop the small table reverently.

"The fairs always boast good crowds." Selephio said gustily, draining his mug. "Coin flies freely."

Crayl grinned and jingled his purse. It sounded full of coin. "If the others have faired half so well, we're off to a prosperous start."

They talked for a while of other minstrels they knew that were here, of the events scheduled for the following days, of ways to spend their earnings. Kall sat listening, noting how the crowd had drifted back to its normal, bolstrous, ever shifting tide of emotional upheaval. Someone started a fight off to the side, but the bar bouncers quickly squashed it, tossing the offenders out into the street. Someone else began loudly and explicitly propositioning one of the barmaids.

He leaned forward, towards the old minstrel. "Is it magic, this power that comes with your music? That you say Lily has and that you and he possess."

Selephio eyed him critically, fingering his beard. There was ale foam in his mustache. "Magic is such a broad term, isn't it?"

"But apt. I see the effects -- so subtle, but there -- but sense nothing recognizable as magic."

"And you would know, wouldn't you?" Selephio said cryptically. "The flavor of magic and all that. Ah, but how sure can you be, wounded as you are?"

Kall looked at Lily, wondering if she'd told the old man about his injures.

As far as he knew she had not told the other bards the extent of his reasons for abandoning Sta-Veron and traipsing about the country side with her. Other than the obvious romantic ones, which as far as he was concerned were more than enough for their inquisitive minds. Lily gave him a look that plainly said she was as surprised as him.

"How do you know -- about that?" he asked cautiously.

Selephio shrugged. "It's a talent of mine, reading people. I read you very well, inquisitive wizard. But its a prerequisite of your kind, curiosity, is it not?"

"As it for yours." Kall replied, not comfortable with this bantering conversation. The old man seemed intent on baiting him.

"Do you go about spreading all your secrets to anyone that asks, wizard?"

"No. Not that it would matter, when so few could use them anyway."

"Ah, so it is for us. What use you knowing -- other than to satiate your curiosity? Perhaps in ten or twenty years when she's as good at it as I, when she's come to learn all the secrets of our trade, she'll tell you. Until then, live with not knowing."

And that, as far as Selephio was concerned was that. He rose, slinging his lute over his shoulder and declared that he was off to find company of a more lissome sort to spend his earnings on. Crayl lingered an uncomfortable moment, enduring Kall's displeased stare as long as possible before going off to find the rest of his troupe.

"I'm sorry." Lily said, looking guilty. "If I knew the answers to your questions, I would tell you. But I don't. I don't know how to explain it."

"I know." He could hardly blame her because his questions went unanswered.

There was nothing to do about it, save force the curiosity down to a point where it didn't nag at him. There were a multitude of other things to distract the mind. They drifted out of town and into the sea of tents along the shore. Gypsies had set up camps here and their erotic music swayed sensuously through the air. Lily was eager to walk among the various groups, looking for familiar faces. She had learned some of her more sultry dances from the time she had spent as a slave to a gypsy band. Lanterns and torches guttered on poles stuck in the sand or hanging from wagons. The gypsies had everything imaginable for sale out of wagons, on blankets spread in the sand, hanging from about their necks as they wove among the browsers.

An old gypsy woman sitting in the back of a wagon called out to passerby, promising accurate fortunes. Lily claimed to recognize her. Not from the group she had been with, but from one her own band had crossed paths with on several occasions.

"Elberta?" Lily ventured closer and the gap toothed old hag peered down at her. Her eyes were such narrow slits in the wrinkles of her face that Kall doubted she could see much beyond her beak of a nose.

"Who's there that calls me by name?" the old woman demanded.

"Its Lily. I met you when I was a girl traveling with Old Elijah's band."

"You're still a girl." The old woman snorted. "But, I seem to recall a pretty voice to go with your pretty face. I remember you. You would never let me tell your future."

Lily lowered her head a little, embarrassed. "I was a slave. Slaves have no future."

"But you're not now. Its gone. Gone. Gone. All the years of servitude washed away with hardly a thought, huh?"

Lily glanced back at Kall with a raised brow. He shrugged having no use for so called fortune tellers and the like.

"Shall I tell your future now, girl?" the old woman cackled, holding out her hand for Lily's. Hesitantly, Lily let the woman draw her to the edge of the wagon, where the canvas flaps and roof afforded a bit of privacy. What was said was for the ears of the client and no other. After a few minutes Lily stepped back out, a little ashen faced, her eyes big as saucers. She stared a moment at Kall, then shifted her eyes away.

"What did she say?" Kall asked despite himself. These types of charlatans often predicted dire things to impress their customers.

"Nothing." Lily said.

"And you?" Old Elberta called out, beckoning to Kall. "Do you want your future told?"

"I make my own." He said coldly and the old woman chuckled.

"And what prophet told you that, boy?"

Something in the way she said it, made him pause, a chill running across his skin. She crooked a finger at him and reluctantly he stepped forward. She took his hand, her skin papery and dry. Her eyes sealed shut. Her breathing went shallow and for a moment it almost looked as if she had fallen into a doze. Then with a whistled breath she whispered.

_All the trials before will be as nothing. When the Black March comes so will come a new era. There is no ice in the desert, so protect the storm._

She hissed suddenly and snatched her hand back from his. Her old eyes glared daggers at him. "What are you?"

He blinked at her, confused. She shook her finger at him accusingly, then scrambled back into the shadows of the wagon, pulling the canvas flap closed after her.

He went back to Lily and she forced a smile for him. "You look as shaken as I was." She said, but didn't ask him what was said. He mulled it over silently. He would have taken it as gibberish, save for the mention of ice. It was not a casual term to use in reference to a desert and in connection with him.

They were foot sore by the time they returned to their inn. They sampled enough exotic foods from venders that neither was inclined to sit down for supper. The other minstrels were still out, so they acquired a bottle of wine and retreated upstairs to their room, content to spend the remainder of the evening without the intrusion of other living souls. He had known Lily for perhaps six months, had been sleeping with her for half that time and she still managed to surprise him on a nightly basis. He thought she would always hold an awe for him. She would always have some unrevealed terrain for him to discover. He was content to understand her bit by bit.

After they had gone through half the bottle of wine and made languid love, they lay entwined on sweat dampened sheets. He told her what the old fortune teller had said, wanting her opinion on whether he read more into mere words than were really there.

"She was always rumored to have the gift." There was a frown in Lily's voice. "But that's a vague fortune, if it can even be considered a fortune at all. Sounds more like a prophesy from one of the mad wanderers."

"Prophesy." He gnawed at his lip. Something about the old woman and her words just made his hair stand up on end. Fortune telling or prophesy or gibberish, he'd rather forget it entirely.

Lily's head was a dark shape on his shoulder. Absently he stroked her hair. Eventually her breathing told him she'd fallen asleep. He felt far from it himself.

It was almost dawn before he did drift off, and when he awoke again, it was full day and the place Lily had rested was long cold. Her lute was gone, so he assumed she was out to ply her trade.

He went down to find breakfast and passed Allun coming in on the arm of a strange young man in the garb of a dancer or acrobat. They both seemed a little giddy. Allun grinned at him and nodded, leading his new friend upstairs. Kall lifted a dubious brow at the notion of retreating to the bedroom at such an hour, but one supposed during the fair, when folk kept unusual hours to begin with, anything was acceptable.

The innkeeper served him a breakfast of thick sliced ham and honey cakes layered with fruit preserves. Hot, apple and cinnamon tea served to clear away the vestiges of wine that still clung to his head. He took the mug out with him to the stables to see that Brawaith was being properly cared for. The horse had a measure of oats in his pale and fresh water. Kall remembered to bring an apple with him and received Brawaith's express approval as blunt equine teeth snatched the fruit from his fingers.

He had heard that there were horse races along the beach and that more than any of the other entertainment's interested him. So he sat out towards the sound of the ocean, finding the temporary corals that had been set up to house the array of animals brought by wagoneers, herders and horse traders. Some of it was even good horse flesh. None so good as Brawaith, but then he'd spent the better part of half a century improving on the northern blood line.

He spent the afternoon watching the races along a straight stretch of beach. When he finally tired of it the sun was beginning to droop towards the horizon, casting the sky over the ocean in a ruddy, orange light.

He walked through the usual crowded commotion of the fair, pressed by people on all sides. A young boy barreled into him, bounced off looking over his shoulder as an older lad rushed towards him, hands outstretched. The younger one shifted around behind Kall, using him as a shield as the older one darted this way and that trying to grab him.

Kall-Su barely had time to blink in offense before they were off, chasing each other into the crowd. He truly, truly hated crowds. As he was reaffirming that in his mind a vender beside him casually remarked. "Better check your purse."

Kall looked down, hardly having suspected that they might be cut purses and found that sure enough the strings to his purse had been neatly severed. With a hiss of indrawn breath he scanned the evening crowd for the bobbing heads of the boys.

He thought he saw the older one running down the street half a block down. He started after him, shouldering his way through the throng of people and trying to keep an eye on the boy at the same time. What he wouldn't give for the ability to use a flight spell. He could have caught the thieves so easily if he weren't so damned damaged. Frustration hammered at him.

But luck was with him, regardless. They weren't expecting pursuit. The older boy was ambling along, the younger one a few yards ahead of him, probably sizing up another target. Kall-Su slipped forward and clamped a hand down on the older lad's shoulder. With a yelp the boy whirled, staring up at him with wide startled eyes.

Kall glared down at him, wishing he'd brought his sword so that he might seem more threatening. "My purse." He demanded.

"Help." The boy squealed. "Help me."

People turned to look. Kall's eyes widened in surprise at the caterwauling. The boy's hand whipped out and something bit into Kall's wrist. He yelped, snatching the hand holding the boy back. The damned little thief had plunged a tiny stiletto into his wrist, just missing the vein. Blood dripped down his palm. The boy fled into the crowd, chasing on the heels of his younger compatriot.

He cursed, furious and no small bit shocked. Reflexively he mouthed the words to a spell. Not a terribly powerful one, just a small summoning spell to call forth an ice beast to hunt the little bastards down. He didn't even think about the consequences, just poured his will into the spell and felt something give unexpectedly. The air went cold, the wind suddenly began to pick up, making clothes flutter and canvas tents flap. Something responded to his bidding, but he hardly noticed because his head felt as if someone had plunged a red hot poker into it.

He cried out, crumbling to his knees, clutching his hair. He tasted blood at the back of his throat, felt it running down his lip from his nose. He felt blood inside of his head -- or thought he did. Running down scabbed over channels that he had just ripped asunder. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He heard screams from somewhere distant in the crowd and wondered vaguely if he had managed to summon his ice beast after all. With vindictiveness born of pain he hoped it ripped the little thief apart. Someone put their hands on him and he shook them off, trying to gain his feet and failing. He had to accept the help. He staggered, equilibrium off. Faces were a blur. Sounds were a grating irritant that made his head throb all the more.

He needed to close his eyes and hope the raw pain would fade. But he couldn't orient enough to recall the way to the inn. He swayed. Someone caught him around the waist and he stiffened to throw off the offender.

"Stop it. What the hell happened to you?"

He focused on a familiar face. Red hair, perpetual superior expression. Dell who reminded him entirely too much of Schneider.

Kall shook his head, refusing to explain. "Nothing. Just help me back to the inn."

"Oh, of course, your majesty." Dell snapped, but he kept his hand under Kall's arm as he steered him through the crowd towards sanctuary.

Lily wasn't there. He didn't know whether he was relieved or devastated. He managed the stairs on his own, ignoring Dell's frown when he thrust off his hands and refused to speak of what happened or of the blood running down his hand. In his and Lily's room he fell back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes to shut out the dim light of evening coming through the window.

Tears leaked past his lashes. What damage had he wrought? It felt almost as gratingly raw as it had the day Angelo had destroyed the pathways that channeled his magic. Yoko had said time might heal what could be healed, if he left well enough alone.

_Don't force anything, Kall. It might do more damage than good._ She had said and Schneider had stood behind her looking solemn and worried, which had scared him more than Yoko's predictions.

When he shut his eyes it felt as if he were at sea, rocking back and forth, sick and dreading his next breath. He wanted to die. He wanted the motion to cease. He'd gladly plunge himself into the cool, darkness of the water and sink to the bottom for eternity to stop the motion.

Fingers pulled at his hand, turning it over. He blinked hazily up at Lily, who held his bloodied hand carefully in hers. She was frowning, not looking happy at all. He was rather surprised to see the displeasure aimed at him.

"What happened?" she demanded. She laid his hand down and went to rummage in her pack. Came back with cloth and the wash basin half filled with water. She sat on the edge of the bed and gingerly began to clean the blood from his skin. Her frown deepened considerably when she saw the puncture wound on his wrist.

"Someone stole my purse." He murmured. His head felt strange. The pain was still there, but it was distant, discordant in its rhythm.

Oh, Kall-Su." She sighed. She wrapped his wrist and sat there staring down at him. Her eyes were dark shadows, the light from the lantern she had brought with her casting her form in silhouette.

"I -- cast a spell." He admitted. "I didn't think. Gods, Lily, it hurt. It still hurts."

She put her fingers lightly on his face, bent down and brushed the whisper of a kiss across his forehead. The longer he was awake, the more insistent the raw seepage of pain became.

"I'm so sorry." She murmured.

She shifted, moving to the corner of the bed where she could put her back against the wall and beckoned him closer. He lay against her warmth with a sigh, her fingers slowly stroking his hair the only comfort in an otherwise miserable situation. He was afraid to close his eyes and go back to sleep for fear of plunging back into the dream of waves and sea sickness.

She began humming a wordless tune. Melodious and soothing, he let himself be drawn into it. It chased away the harsh edges of hurt. Balm to the raw abrasion, as if she strove with all her heart to put healing into her simple melody. He shut his eyes as relief slowly washed over him and wondered if that wasn't exactly what she were doing.

[NEXT][1]

   [1]: silvercroft4.htm



	4. Chapter Four

silvercroft4

Part Four 

The smell of roasting beast made his head hurt. The salt breeze off the ocean made his temples throb. The myriad array of colors worn by the crowd in the tap room made his eyes ache. The noise made him want to start killing people. Dell and Thizura chief among those unlucky folk, because they were responsible for a good deal of the noise presently infecting the tavern. They had the room singing chorus to a monumentally long lewd ballad concerning a farmer's unnatural affections for his charges.

Kall-Su was sorry he'd come down. Hunger and boredom had drawn him out of his room. He'd spent all the day there, wallowing in self inflicted pain and the self-pity that came with it. Lily had stayed with him through lunch, the both of them sleeping longer than they were wont, and doing damn little more than sleeping with his head complaining as badly as it was. She'd brought up a bottle of wine with lunch, an anomaly in her habits, and kept his mug full. When he'd asked with an arched brow if she were trying to get him drunk, she'd grinned and shrugged.

"It's for your headache. I don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you, silly."

"Your playing soothes it more." Then he'd hesitated, toying with the crude wooden mug, thinking about how last night, he had forgotten about the hurt for a while when she'd sat crooning meaningless melodies. He'd wanted to ask her about it then, but sleep had washed over him unawares. The second time her singing had such an effect on him.

"Did you wish me asleep last night?"

She'd blinked at him, caught in the midst of tearing bread. She held the two pieces in her slender fingers and met his stare. "I wished for you to be at peace. You were in such discomfort. You were lucky to get any sleep at all."

"No. Not lucky, I think. You did it, with your song. There is a magic to it. It is -- very difficult to even detect. Very subtle."

Her eyes widened a bit in dismay. "I didn't realize I was even doing it. Selephio said --- he said that sometimes what I want with my heart comes through in my music. He says it's merely a matter of weaving a pattern of wants. Oooohh, but I'm not supposed to talk about it -- he made me swear an oath. Crayl says he swore the same when he began learning. But I don't want to keep things from you -- not if you want to know."

"No." He held up a finger, reached out and touched her lips. "No oath breaking for me. I'll figure it out on my own if I decide I wish to badly enough. Right now, it's not that important. Other than it helped chase the damned headache away. Play me another song."

"I'll wish away the hurt with all my heart." She promised, and a while it had fled. But it came back after he'd sent her away, knowing how much she wanted to go and discover more of the fair's delights.

He had no notion where she might be now, with darkness covering the land, and a hundred colored lanterns swinging from the eaves. When Dell and Thizura finally finished their song and paused to wet their throats, he pulled at Thizura's sleeve to get the young minstrel's attention.

"Do you know where Lily is?"

"Some competition with Crayl and the old man out on the beach. It's a master's thing. Don't know why they invited her along." Thizura sniffed disdainfully, casting Kall an appraising look. "They probably won't let you in. You look awful. Do you have a hangover or something?"

"Something." Kall-Su muttered, drifting away. He left the clamor of the tap room and stepped out into the somewhat less crowded street. It was still far from peaceful. A dozen different strains of melody could be heard. He tried to block them all out, none of them bringing the serenity of Lily's music.

He walked towards the beach, following the thrumming rush of the ocean. On the edge of the town, where the land sloped down towards the broad beach, one could see the whole field of tents spread out across the sand. To the north where the harbor was, the lights from docked ships bobbed gently in the current and out to sea a few ships at anchor were dark silhouettes.

"Makes a body feel safer with those warships riding the waves out there." An old man remarked in passing, seeing Kall's attention fixed out to sea.

"Those are warships?" he asked.

"Aye, Alliance vessels out patrolling in case the twice damned corsairs try to pluck this very rich fruit. The fair's an tempting target, to be sure. They been hitting up and down the coast regular as rain these last few months."

"I've heard."

"Those ships just come down from the north, keeping looters and such from all those poor coastal towns what got smothered by the freak winter storm beginning of summer. Heard from one of her crew come for shoreleave that they scuttled a pirate ship up around Kelededra. 'Course the pirates were running for their lives at the time with their ship all ablaze like a Lady's Day fire. Heard there was a crazy mad wizard took up in Kelededra what sent three raidership's packing."

"Really?"

"Captain of the Alliance warship said he was ranting and raving 'bout his house being covered in ice and making folk sorry for the inconvenience. So I figure I'll not be heading up Kelededra way, anytime soon."

"Oh." That was probably a priceless pearl of wisdom. One most certainly would wish to avoid crazy mad wizards out for vengeance over certain ice covered villa's.

He followed the path down to the beach, boots sinking into soft sand. A hundred tents. A hundred venders offering a hundred diversions.

A dancer snaked out from the carpet covered front of a well lit tent, hips swaying, bells clapping between her fingers.

"Hello, beautiful. Come inside?" She wove in front of him, wrapping her arms about his neck. It was not dance they were selling, but flesh. He unwound her hands and slipped past, and she gyrated up to another passerby without missing a beat.

He could not find, upon casual inspection, the gathering of master harpers that Thizura had spoken of. The flickering torch light combined with the noise and the frustration of fruitless search made his head stab with pain. He trudged through sand away from the tents and closer to the line of tide. It was quieter here, where they dared not set their tents and he walked a ways, daring the foaming surf to wet his boots. He sat down on a rock finally, a few yards from the edge of the wet sand the ocean was determined to pull back into itself and stared out at the distant lights of the warships.

Terrible thing, to be stuck out there on the ever tossing sea, patrolling the dark waters for elusive prey. Frustrating job. One almost never heard of pirates being caught. He imagined the reason the ones in Kelededra had been was more due to the surprise of finding an irate wizard in residence than any interference of Alliance warships. He wondered where such pirates came from. Across the ocean, hailing from distant and foreign lands, most said. A world away, as far as he was concerned, having no care to ever venture by ship to such far off places. But he did wonder what the destruction of the ancient world had left of other lands. All that was here, were the ravaged shells of once great cities. Boneyards where scavengers and ghosts dwelled.

A drifting strain of music caught his attention. A reedy chord that was ethereal and fey. There was a fire down the beach, beyond the last rows of tents. He saw the orange flare of it against a shielding wing of rocks. He heard a soft voice travel out over the sea, blending with the gentle rush of surf.

A magical sound almost. Most certainly the music of a master minstrel. He got up and walked towards the niche where the fire was hidden by rocks. Paused outside them, mesmerized by the song. It seemed to make the very air fragrant. Almost it made his head swim. He put a hand to a shoulder high rock jutting out of the sand, and forced the sensation aside. It took more than simple will power. He felt the strain inside his battered channels of forcing something more than mundane out of his consciousness. He was surprised he could do it at all, after yesterday's debacle.

He stepped forward and saw a ring of people sitting in the sand around a small fire. Five men, two of whom he knew. One younger than Crayl, the others almost as old as Selephio. One woman, whom he knew very well, sitting with her back against a rock, a little back from the others, her hands folded in her lap, as if she were only observing, not joining in. The song did not quite falter when he stepped into their private realm, so much as find a convenient halting point. They all stared at him. He could not quite see Lily's expression in the shadows, but he thought her eyes were wide. He was not usually one for making excuses for himself under any circumstances, but with the sudden, stilted silence, he felt the need assaulting him.

He did not quite get the chance. Selephio's annoying voice cut in first.

"Well, look what wondered into our little gathering. Looking for your woman? Or merely indulging in a bit of curiosity?"

Kall lifted his nose, eyes flickering over the old man disdainfully. "The first, obviously. There's nothing of your lot, that would prick my curiosity."

"Liar." The old man's grin was pale in the moonlight.

"Don't push me, old man." Kall said in offense.

"Or what? Your claws have been cut. What can you do but mouth threats?"

Hateful, hateful old man. But one that knew more than he ought about the state of Kall-Su's powers. How? If Lily was a mere apprentice -- not even that really -- and yet she already had the power to soothe his hurts, what ability might a man accomplished at this strange song magic have?

"How do you know, what I can and cannot do? Is that part of your magic?"

They exchanged looks around the circle. Lily had crept forward and knelt in the sand, staring up at him expectantly.

"He's dying to know more about our --- particular talents." Selephio told the others.

"Trade secrets." One of the older ones cackled. One could not imagine a sweet singing voice belonging to that croak, but the ancient man held a beautifully crafted flute across his lap.

"He's a wizard." Crayl offered, as if that explained his prying.

"A wounded one." Selephio said and leaned forward slyly. "Who's just had a thought occur to him. Who's beginning to wonder what we can do for him."

"Don't presume to second guess me." Kall said coolly, though the old man was disturbingly close to the mark.

"Can we? You -- do anything to help him?" Lily's voice was a taught whisper. Her stare had gone to Selephio, then flickered to Crayl and around the circle.

"You can." The old man with the flute sniggered. "Take him to bed and he'll forget all about it."

Kall blushed. Lily's lips tightened and she climbed to her feet, crossing to his side with a look on her face that warned she was about to become ill-tempered with her brethren in short order.

"Never mind, them. It's later than I thought, I'll walk back with you."

He stayed rooted to the spot, even when she tried to urge him away. "Can you?" he asked softly.

"What benefit us?" Selephio asked.

Kall spoke without thinking. "Whatever you wanted. Gold. Lands. Protection. Patronage. Name it."

"You could do all that?" One of the silent one's asked, sounding amused.

"Oh, He probably could." Selephio said. "But if we wanted gold or lands, we could have had them long past. We wouldn't be minstrels if we didn't relish the prospect of travel and living day to day. As for protection. Again, the thrill of life on the road is part and parcel with our profession -- though the notion might hold some merit. Patronage. Ahh, now that's a word an honest harper drools over. Though what allure lies in the frigid north, I know not."

"Ah. I see." Kall inclined his head. "The root of it is, that you're good for nothing but the swaying of emotions and that only while you're making your music. You play at secrets, but in truth what you wield is useless."

"Play at words with me, will you?" Selephio snapped. "True, I've never killed a man or an army of men, or a sleeping city, but there are powers out there other than elemental forces or demons trapped into service that respond to the proper touch. Anyone with the knowledge and the will can trick a elemental spirit into labor."

"Really? That simple is it? Do you practice wizardly as well as minstrelsy, then? I suppose this music magic you're so secretive about takes a great deal more than knowledge and will?"

"The fates decide. You're either born with the talent to attract certain notice or you're not. The best singer in the world might be nothing more than that -- an exemplary singer if he's not born with the spark. There are damn fewer of us than there are of you -- and believe me, if people knew we could sway them, you think we'd be welcome in any household or town?"

"So you hide it? What use is it then, if you don't use it and no one knows you have it?"

"We do use it." Crayl said. "But not for gain or power. Well, mostly not. It's frowned upon to do so."

"How?"

The lot of them exchanged stares. Lily was staring at them with more curiosity than Kall-Su. Her finger's clutched painfully at his arm.

"We can bring luck." Crayl said softly, after getting grudging nods from around the circle. "We can lift spirits. We can cause sallow fields to become rich. We can end feuds. We can soothe the thoughts of the deranged. We can make a barren women fertile again -- or a man."

"Any hedge witch can claim all that."

"Ah, but we can do it and with no spells or potions or pouches to keep under the pillow."

"You can cure the mad?" No healer he knew could do such a thing. Go into the mind of a lunatic and cleanse the delusion. Insanity was not a physical thing, which lent hope, because neither were the channels that allowed magic to flow. They could be repaired. He knew that, Angelo had said as much when he'd burned them out.

"You can help him." Lily whispered, glaring at Crayl accusingly. "You knew you could help him all this time and you never said a thing."

"I don't know." Crayl said. "It's not a precise art. You may wish a thing, but it doesn't always turn out the way you might want. Or when. We can set things in motion, but sometimes it might take months or years for the final goal to be achieved."

"And then you have the moral dilemma." Selephio said. "Who's the say the world isn't better off with one less wizard. Who's to say you're not being punished by the powers that be for all your --- crimes? How many deaths did your magic claim?"

"Too many." Kall said. He was tired of the debate. He was beginning to think the mere possibility of their being able to help him was not worth the bickering. He hated arguing. He wasn't used to people doing it with him.

Lily was more than willing to do it for him. She stabbed a finger at Selephio and hissed. "Who are you to even ask? You'd think you were some high and mighty priest with the weight of all the world's sin on his shoulders. I haven't seen you show a bit of care for anyone but yourself since I met you, so don't dare to preach. And if I have the talent then I'll figure out how to do it - with or without your teaching -- and do it myself."

Crayl stared at her wide eyed. Selephio laughed. A few of the other's smiled, though gods knew what they were amused at.

"Feisty girl, you've picked up there, Crayl." The old man with the flute remarked. "If her bite's as sharp as her bark, she'll be dangerous. Gods of delight know she could kill a man with her dancing alone."

"Shut up, you old reprobate." Lily snapped.

Kall slashed a hand sharply to stop it. "Never mind."

"No." Lily gasped.

"I didn't say we wouldn't consider it." Selephio drawled, content in his power over the situation.

"Consider what you like. I withdraw my offer."

He spun on his heel, marching away through the sand. Lily trailed in his wake, casting dark glares over her shoulder, muttering under her breath.

"Those arrogant bastards." She sniffed, when they were well and away, at the fringe of tents and amongst the crowd.

"I am sorry I alienated you from them." And he did regret that. She had been happy.

"Don't be. Selephio has been a sharp tongued viper since day one. Not surprising to find him so unagreeable. I'll have words with Crayl when next I see him, though."

"Lily, I am well able to defend my own honor."

She walked with her hands stuffed under her arms for a bit. Then let out a little breath of pent up frustration. "I know. It just makes me angry."

[ NEXT][1]

   [1]: silvercroft5.htm



	5. Chapter Five

silvercroft5

Part Five

"I'm sorry." Crayl slipped up to Kall-Su the next day down in the nearly deserted tap room, his long face somber and a little guilty. "My old master can be -- acerbic. Healing has never been my strong suit, so I swear it never occurred to me that I could be of help to you."

"It doesn't matter." Kall reached past him for the crock of honey the bar maid had sat on the breakfast buffet. 

"Ah -- I believe it does. You hold grudges, I think. I just wanted to let you know."

Kall continued to ignore him. Crayl let out a belabored sigh. "He'll do it. Selephio. He's the best among us at singing a mind back to health. We didn't have to tell him even what ailed you. He senses that sort of thing. It comes to him, he says when the music is upon him. He could tell you what ills every listener in the room has when he has the power full upon him. He says Lily has the healing gift too."

"Then I don't need him."

"It took him a lifetime to horn his skill. Lily can't help you like he can."

"I do not wish to be in his debt. I dislike him."

Crayl blinked at him, stupefied. "You would turn down his help -- because you don't care for him?"

Kall shrugged and went to a table. 

"That's -- that's just foolish."

"What's foolish?" Thizura came down the steps, a spring to his step, his lute over his shoulder. He paused by the breakfast buffet and picked up a muffin, then sat down across from Kall.. 

"Nothing." Crayl glared at him.

"Has Lily abandoned you again, Kall-Su?" Thizura grinned at him. "She doesn't deserve you."

"Don't you have something to do, Thizura? Somewhere to perform? Somebody to seduce?" Crayl inquired. 

"Well, yes, now that mention it. And I'm trying, but you're interrupting me."

Crayl stared at him, Kall-Su did. The little harper pouted, then shrugged, pocketing his muffin and hopping up. He sauntered from the tap room with a lazy smile.

"Well, don't accuse me of not knowing when I'm not wanted." He tossed over his shoulder, then he was gone and Crayl bent down to fix Kall with his gaze again.

"If you get over your pique, come see me. I'll tell Lily."

Kall opened his mouth to tell him not to bother, but Crayl was already walking out the door. Lily wouldn't hold the same view of it as he did. To Lily, honor was not a priority. She had no use for it when it came down to plain practicality. It was a failing that women seemed to possess, having little or no regards for a man's sense of honor. 

"You not serious?" Lily said, in her soft, calm voice. Her great dark eyes held a hint of disbelief. She made Kall-Su feel somewhat foolish. She never raised her voice or resorted to argument or scorn to do it. All she had to do was let her silence's stretch, let her eloquent eyes convey her disappointment, trial her tapered nails in circles over the back of her hand in a reserved token of frustration. It always caught him off guard, her subtle methods of pressing her points. The few women who he was used to hearing argue -- and there were relatively few who would dare to do it in his presence -- tended to be a bit more vocally and sometimes physically, volatile. Yoko could raise the dead with her tirades and Arshes Nei tended to litter fields with them. 

Lily just quietly and mournfully looked at him, her warm shoulder pressed next to his on the bench they shared. They were sitting at an outside table, under a colorful canopy, the smells of roasting pork and seasoned vegetables swimming through the air. There was a violinist weaving through the tables of fair goers, casting an alluring melody over the evening air. 

"Its not like there's anything to it." He said in defense. "I hold little faith in this talent. Nothing so imprecise can ever be of great use."

She picked at her plate, without uttering a word. Her hair fell over her face, so that only the tip of her nose and her lips were visible. 

"This business of wishing for a thing and having some spirit attracted by the lure of the music fulfill it is just --- just not possible."

"You would know, I suppose." She said meekly, not evidencing the least bit of sarcasm. He searched for it in her tone and came away more miffed that it wasn't there, than he would have had it been. 

He sat chewing the inside of his lip while she shifted the contents of her plate. The violinist came up behind them, and Kall glared him away. 

"I did not claim to know everything about it. It's merely that I don't trust the grandeur of their claims."

"It didn't sound very grand to me." She said softly. "They don't even always accept payment for what they do. I would think a grandiose sorcerer would at least want a little gold. My last master -- well the one before _Him_ -- he wasn't a very good wizard, but he always requested payment. You got paid, didn't you?"

"I did _not!!"_ His eyes blazed in indignation that she put him on the level of a hedge witch. 

"Oh. Well where did you get all your gold and your city and all of that?" Again, she held no note of accusation in her voice, merely concerned curiosity, as if she'd entertained a wrong notion and dearly wanted him to correct it. 

"Spoils of war." He started, then frowned, because of course the war in question had been a sorcerous one and all he'd gained had been due to sorcery, so one had to admit that in point of fact everything he owned had in fact been the result of him using his magic. 

She pushed back her hair to look at him. A blush stained his cheeks and he swallowed a gulp of wine to cover it. Thank the gods they hardly ever disagreed, for her talent of routing him would be envied by a great deal of his enemies. 

"I detest that old man." He finally admitted, and he hated, absolutely loathed, the plaintive whine he heard in his tone. "There is a limit to the insults I will tolerate."

"Oh, my love, he's a cranky old man. You tolerate worse from that silver haired serpent of Yoko's."

"That is entirely different." He declared. 

She sighed, brushing his hand with her fingers. "I know. I've no right to pressure you. Forgive me."

She looked at him expectantly. He took a breath and surrendered. 

"All right. I'll go. What harm in it, after all? The only thing to loose is my patience."

She leaned forward and kissed him in a serious manner, embarrassing in such a public place. She pressed her thigh against his under the table invitingly. "But not tonight, humm?" she breathed against his mouth. 

As enticing a thought as it was, his conviction was watery enough not to let a night go by where he might reconsider it and change his mind.

"Better to do it now. It might never happen, otherwise."

The old minstrel was playing for a group of avid youngsters, his craggy face lit by the flickering flames of a small bonfire. He saw Kall-Su and Lily as soon as they walked through the darkness and stood at the edge of his young audience. He finished the song and sat his lute aside. With a groan and a creaking of old knees he rose and another harper took his place. 

"Swallowed your pride, have you boy?"

"Don't call me that." Kall said coldly, lifting his chin. "I am most assuredly not." 

"Hah. I've seen lads out of the nursery hardly looking older than you. Besides, how do you know how old I really am? Hummm?"

"I'm sure I don't care."

Selephio laughed. Lily frowned at the both of them. 

"I've decided what I want." The old man said.

Kall blinked at him. "I thought you did not accept payment?"

"From the likes of you? For the scope of what I might do for you? Oh, I think payment will be most necessary."

"In advance, I assume?" Kall inquired with an arched brow.

"No. What I want can't be accomplished that quickly. Or maybe it can, depends on how long it takes for my wishsinging to work, doesn't it?"

"What do you want?"

"A hall."

"A hall?"

"A bard's hall. A school. A haven. A place to gather, a place to shelter our kind who have always wondered. Build it in your cold, dreary city and bring a little life to the gray place. But cede it to us as a guild hall and for as long as you live, protect it."

For a moment, all Kall could do was stare. The hall itself was not so grand a request, but the vow of lifelong protection --? That might be considerably longer than Selephio guessed. Or it might not be. The old man seemed privy to a great many secrets. A talent that harpers possessed, he thought. 

"Is that all?" he almost laughed. 

Selephio shrugged, a slight smile crossing his lips. "Its enough, I believe."

"You think your talents can earn it?"

"All we can do is try and see. Stranger things have happened, haven't they?"

Interlude's End


End file.
